


Episode

by tveckling



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bipolar Mercutio, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: Inside it was a mess, papers strewn all over the bed and most of the floor, the bookshelf empty with its contents lying on the floor close to it, furniture moved around so it was hard to walk. Over by the desk Giovanni could see Mercutio, muttering to himself as he furiously wrote on a piece of paper before throwing it aside. Closing the door behind him Giovanni made his way across the room, trying not to step on anything. Even as he got closer he still couldn’t identify exactly what Mercutio was saying, his voice moving up and down in volume, the words falling out of his mouth so quickly that even when Giovanni could hear him he couldn’t decipher more than a few words here and there.





	Episode

Valentine was outside of Mercutio’s room when Giovanni got there, looking like one more push would make him shatter like glass. Carefully, softly Giovanni put his hands on his shoulders, and immediately he felt Valentine move into the touch, leaning his forehead against Giovanni’s shoulder. Valentine was a proud boy, unwilling to show much weakness, just like the rest of his family, and seeing him crumble like this told Giovanni how bad the situation was.

“The door isn’t locked,” Valentine muttered, “but I- I can’t-”

“It’s okay. I’m here now, I’ll take care of it.” As best as I can, Giovanni added in his mind. He could only do something if Mercutio let him. “You go get some rest, I’m sure you need it.”

“You’ll let me know how it goes, right?”

Despite his weariness, Valentine’s voice and eyes were intent, determined. He wouldn’t take a no, that was clear. Giovanni could feel the pull of a proud smile, but he simply nodded solemnly. “Of course.”

“Good.” 

With one last look at Mercutio’s door, Valentine left. Giovanni waited until he had disappeared out of sight, then studied the closed door like it could give him the answers he needed. Nothing happened, of course, so telling himself to stop wasting time Giovanni took a steadying breath and opened the door.

Inside it was a mess, papers strewn all over the bed and most of the floor, the bookshelf empty with its contents lying on the floor close to it, furniture moved around so it was hard to walk. Over by the desk Giovanni could see Mercutio, muttering to himself as he furiously wrote on a piece of paper before throwing it aside. Closing the door behind him Giovanni made his way across the room, trying not to step on anything. Even as he got closer he still couldn’t identify exactly what Mercutio was saying, his voice moving up and down in volume, the words falling out of his mouth so quickly that even when Giovanni could hear him he couldn’t decipher more than a few words here and there.

“Mercutio? What’s going on?”

Mercutio’s frantic writing and muttering didn’t so much as pause, not until Giovanni repeated Mercutio’s name, louder. Blinking, as though waking from a dream, Mercutio turned his head. When he saw Giovanni he brightened and continued speaking, with that same inaudible speed.

“Wait, Mercutio, speak slower. Slower.”

Mercutio frowned at the request but rolled his eyes as if Giovanni was being particularly obtuse. Slowly, as though speaking to a child, he said, “I said, it’s good that you’re here. You can be if great help, I’m sure of it. The fairies like they, they won’t mind if you help me.”

“The fairies?” Giovanni understood now why Valentine had been so drained. It was one thing to deal with Mercutio in one of his episodes, but the ones where he spoke of creatures that only he saw, a reality only he was party to, were the hardest ones.

Mercutio clearly didn’t notice how Giovanni’s stomach dropped, though, because he continued to chatter on, the speed of his words increasing, though thankfully not enough to become incomprehensible. “Yes, the fairies. They praise you, you know, your tenacity and wisdom, the strength of your convictions, and so on. Yes, they won’t mind you helping me.”

“Help you with what, Mercutio?”

“This!” Mercutio waved a hand at the papers cluttering his desk, but before Giovanni could take a look at any of them Mercutio dashed forward, grabbing Giovanni’s hand. “See, I had this idea of changing the look of my room. It was all boring, everything the same year after year after year. It was dreadful, drab and uninspiring. I had Valentine help me with that, since he was here. But then the fairies came to me, servants of beautiful Titania herself! They wanted me to write an ode in her name, something befitting of a Queen of her magnitude. I stopped my work immediately, of course, and set about to fulfill the task I had been given. I am not too well-versed in poetry, not to produce a work for such a person without some investigation.” He gestured towards the books on the floor with a dark look. “None of them could give me much help, so I have been trying, and trying, and trying, all on my own. The words, they always come so easy to me, but now I can’t seem to find the right ones. How can I hope to gain Titania’s blessing if all I can create are as disappointing as this drivel?”

“Mercutio.” When Giovanni’s hands grabbed his shoulders Mercutio blinked, as though he had forgotten Giovanni was there. It didn’t ease the knot in his chest. “Mercutio, listen to me. There haven’t been any fairies visiting you, because they don’t exist. Fairies aren’t real. You know this.”

Mercutio’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Giovanni.

“Mercutio, tell me you know that. Tell me you know fairies aren’t real.” Giovanni didn’t tighten his grip on his nephew’s shoulders, trying to ignore the urge to shake him until he returned to reality.

Mercutio moved before Giovanni could do something, taking a step backward and out of Giovanni’s grip. The moment he was free he turned around, only showing his back as he leaned over his desk. There was no way for Giovanni to see his face unless one of them moved.

“I- I know.” Mercutio’s voice was slow, hesitant, and full of loathing—whether it was towards himself, Giovanni, or the non-existent fairies was impossible to say. “It’s- I know. You can leave now. I don’t need any help, after all. I’ll just,"—his voice slowed down considerably—"clean up here. There’s no need for you to be here.”

“I’m not leaving, not yet. Valentine asked me to come. You know how worried he gets,” Giovanni said with a sigh as he stepped forward to once again place a hand on Mercutio’s shoulder.

Only a moment after it was violently shrugged off and Mercutio turned around with such anger in his face that Giovanni actually took a step back. “Well, why don’t you go to him then and comfort him? Just leave me alone, leave me to my own devices, and neither of you will have to worry about me any longer. I know how painful, how weary and exhausting, how awful it must be for you to look after a raving lunatic. Well, you won’t have to any longer. I’ll take care of myself, without being a strain on both of you.” The grin he wore was nothing short of feral, meant to inflict pain, to bite out hurtful words.

“That’s not- Mercutio, that’s not what I, or Valentine, think! You know that we love you-”

“One can love something broken, even as you know it is only a matter of time before you need to throw it away for good. Just look at darling Tybalt and his dear, devoted Capulet family. He will be thrown away, sooner or later.” Mercutio giggled, his eyes wide behind his hands, then just as suddenly as his glee had appeared it disappeared, and he let his hands fall to his sides. “You will need to throw me away too, sooner or later. I am broken, mad, a ranting fool. Everyone knows. I will only be a burden on this family, the longer you pretend nothing is wrong.”

Giovanni shook his head, frustration and helplessness coming together to muddle his mind, making his tongue loose. “I won’t send you away. The church, the things they do to those sick of mind that come into their hands- I won’t let them near you.”

Mercutio barked a short laughter, his smile wide enough that Giovanni’s own face ached. “Why, when I am so certainly ‘sick of mind,’ as you called it. How long have I had these periods of mine, dearest uncle? Years? My whole life? It’s hard to tell, isn’t it? I fit far better with those lunatics than with regular people, don’t you think? I know plenty of people who do.”

Mercutio was right, but the thought of people’s mutterings making their way to him—or someone actually saying it to his face—made Giovanni grit his teeth. He had done what he could to keep those whispers away from Mercutio, but Mercutio always found out everything he shouldn’t know. Always had.

“Others’ cruel misgivings doesn’t matter to me, not in this.” Rubbing his forehead Giovanni studied his nephew. “Tell me what I can do, Mercutio, and I will do it. I want to help you, to show that I care.”

“Help me?” Mercutio stayed quiet until he saw Giovanni’s nod, then he turned away again with a sigh. “If you really want to help, you will leave.”

Giovanni frowned. “Mercutio-”

“Please.”

Hesitating for a long moment Giovanni eventually pulled back his hand. Slowly he began speaking, “I’ll send in a servant later, to help you clean up here. If you don’t want to eat dinner with us you can tell the servant that and they will bring food here instead. But if you feel like it I know Valentine would be thrilled to see you at the table.”

Mercutio didn’t answer or give any sign that he had heard, but Giovanni waited a while longer. Just in case. Hoping he would find the right words, as Mercutio had put it earlier. But Mercutio stayed silent and Giovanni continued to fumble in vain for words. There was the feeling that, if he misspoke, he would lose Mercutio for good, chase him down a rabbit hole he wouldn’t climb out of.

So he left, turning without a word. Leaving Mercutio behind, still leaning over a messy desk, surrounded by chaos created by his own hands.


End file.
